


we'll make it out alive

by soundsandsweetairs



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: (sorry), F/F, Hurt/Comfort, No Spoilers, One Shot, POV Second Person, Tenderness, UST, wound care (nothing gruesome tho)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundsandsweetairs/pseuds/soundsandsweetairs
Summary: Piper is hurt while helping the sole survivor clear out a den of raiders. Feels & cuddles follow.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Piper Wright
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	we'll make it out alive

You duck behind a desk as a bullet whizzes past.  _ Damn. _ You thought you’d cleared out the last of these raiders, but nope, apparently a few have gotten past you. The debris on the floor crunches under your feet as you shift your weight. This bank is absolutely decrepit — there’s grime all over the walls, and the ceiling in this room has collapsed, letting in light from above.

Piper glances over from where she’s taking cover at the other side of the desk. “They never just want to talk, huh?”

You laugh and shake your head. At least she’s here with you. This den of raiders would have been a lot less fun to clean up without her company. She whoops when you land a head shot on the biggest and ugliest one. “Nice one, Blue!”

You flash a smile her way and aim at the last remaining raider.  _ Almost got him— _

There’s another spray of gunfire.  _ This bastard just won’t die, will he? _ Piper lets out a high, pained yelp next to you, and you see her slump to the floor out of the corner of her eye. When you glance over, she’s curled against the desk, pressing her hand to her leg. You see blood, and your stomach drops.  _ Shit. _

Gotta kill this asshole before checking on Piper; it won’t do her much good if he comes over here to finish both of you off. You reload your .44 and pop off a few shots, nailing him in the shoulder and gut. He doesn’t stand a chance against you; you blast one last bullet into his head and he’s gone. 

You’re breathing hard, adrenaline surging through your body as you listen to make sure that was the last one. Finally, no more sounds of movement. They’re gone, all of them. 

Piper’s strained voice breaks the silence. “Some help here, Blue?” Her teeth are gritted. You drop to your knees next to her, panicked. 

“Shit, Piper, what happened?” 

“Wasn’t as careful as I should have been.” She lifts her hand from her thigh and winces at the blood. It’s very, very red, staining her jeans and all over her hand. 

“God. Okay.” You try to breathe normally, fighting through a moment of lightheadedness.  _ She’ll be fine, _ you tell yourself. There’s a lot of blood, but it’s not gushing in any way that seems immediately life-threatening. “I spotted a mattress in one of the rooms downstairs — let’s head there, and we’ll get you cleaned up, and you can rest?”

Piper nods. You help her to her feet, doing your best not to bump her leg. The weight of her arm over your shoulder sends a bolt of warmth through your body, the sweet glow you’ve started to feel anytime she’s near you. 

You make your way slowly down the stairs, to the room that you guess must have been the raiders’ main living quarters. It’s filthy — litter is scattered all around, and there’s a smell of dust and decay that makes you wonder what it is that raiders seem to have against clean, well-kept living spaces.

“This place would be right as rain if you had a Mr. Handy, a featherduster, and maybe a hundred years, right, Blue?” Her voice is tense, but her sense of humor always makes you grin.

You pretend to consider the benefits of the room. “I don’t know, Piper — seems pretty homey already to me.” She giggles, only a little breathless from pain.

You aim for the cleanest of the mattresses, the only one that doesn’t have any suspicious stains on it. (Though you’ve gotten much less picky about where you lay your head, since waking up in the future.) Piper settles onto the mattress, hissing when her leg jostles. The bleeding seems to have mostly stopped, at least. 

“Can you take your jeans off?” You blush as you say the words, which is  _ stupid, _ because obviously you’re not trying to get in her pants. Well.  _ Literally _ you are, you guess, but for  _ wound care _ reasons—

She nods, mercifully cutting off your train of thought, and unbuttons her jeans, sliding them down. She inhales sharply as she pushes them over her thighs, and you see the wound just above her right knee, jagged and bloody and  _ painful. _ You wince in sympathy. 

“God. Okay. You’re going to be okay, Piper.”

She looks at you like she trusts you, though her hands clench on the mattress. “I know. Just hurts.”

You help her remove her boots and get her jeans the rest of the way off. Not the way you’d imagined this scenario, in your occasional vivid daydreams. There’s way less blood, for one, and her eyes are warm and inviting on yours, instead of pained and frightened. You blink.  _ Concentrate. _

You press gingerly around the wound, trying to determine if the bullet is still in her leg. Her breathing is harsh. “Looks like it went clean through, at least. I don’t have to go digging around for a bullet.”

She smiles, a little grim. “That’s a relief.”

You rifle around in your pack and retrieve a can of purified water and a mostly clean pre-war dress shirt you’d turned up a while ago. Piper had made fun of you when you’d grabbed it  _ (“Where are you going, Blue, that you need to dress up all fancy?”) _ but as you tear off a strip to use as a rag, and another for a bandage, you’re glad you have it. 

She makes a tiny hurt noise as you wipe at the wound with the damp cloth. You glance at her face to find her looking up at the ceiling, eyes wet. Her freckles are stark against her pale cheeks, and she’s biting her lip. 

You wipe your palm on the leg of your vaultsuit and reach for her hand. “Almost done, Piper. You’re doing so great.”

She smiles at you tearfully and squeezes your hand so hard it hurts. “I know. What would I do without you?”

You flinch and look back down.  _ Without you? _ She’d be back in Diamond City, safe with Nat, sleeping in a real bed that doesn’t smell of unwashed raider. You know that being a reporter isn’t totally without risk — some of the stories she’s told you about scrapes she’s gotten into have made your jaw drop — but it’s got to be safer than trekking across the Commonwealth with the sole survivor of Vault 111.  _ She’s hurt because of me, _ you think to yourself. It feels like a kick in the gut. 

Piper notices your change in mood and dips her head to catch your gaze. “Hey, what did I say?”

“Nothing, Piper, it’s just— you’d be so much safer without me.” 

A wrinkle appears between her eyebrows. Her green eyes are upset as they flicker over your face. “You know that I love traveling with you, right? There’s no place I’d rather be.” She squints around at your admittedly filthy surroundings, and her lips quirk. “Well. Some places I’d rather be than, you know, this exact raider hideout. But don’t you dare feel guilty. You didn’t make me do anything.”

She’s right, of course. “I know.  _ I know. _ I just— I hate seeing you get hurt.”

“I’m lucky to have you here to patch me up.” You have to look away from her face and the soft, earnest expression on it.  _ God, _ you want her, have wanted her from the very beginning. From the minute she’d first snuck you into Diamond City under questionable pretenses, you’d known she was something special, and the weeks you’ve spent traversing the Commonwealth have cemented your opinion of her. 

You finish cleaning the wound as best you can, then dig through your stuff for a Stimpak. She holds her breath as you inject it into the flesh near the wound. “Never did like that feeling.”

You smile at her in apology and wrap your makeshift bandage around her leg, tucking in the end. That should hold it, while the Stimpak does its work. You allow yourself to rub your thumb over her knee. “All done.”

Glancing down at your hands, you shudder at the blood —  _ Piper’s blood _ — under your fingernails. You pour the last of the water over your hands and scrub as best you can to eliminate the reminder of her mortality.

She scoots to the far side of the bed. “Thanks again, Blue. Get over here, will you?”

The little quirk of her lips is irresistible, as always. You finish packing up your things and join her, sitting gingerly on the mattress. The two of you have shared a bed dozens of times at this point, but being so close to her never fails to make your heart beat faster. She shrugs out of her coat, folding it sloppily and setting it next to the bed. Her hat goes too, and she ruffles a hand through her hair. You do your best to avert your eyes as she settles onto the bed — in only her shirt and underwear, you’ve never seen her wearing so little. 

You lie down as close to the edge of the mattress as possible, vividly aware of the space between your back and hers. The bed is very small. You flick off the light of your Pip-Boy, and the room goes dark. There’s the barest light through the windows, from the neon lights and burn barrels on the street. 

God, you could have lost Piper today. If the bullet had been just a little closer to her femoral artery, if the lead raider had been a little bit faster or stronger — she might have bled out on the floor while you took those final shots. The horrible image of her dying in your arms flashes behind your eyes when you close them. Her too-pale face, your hands clasped desperately, a few tender words of farewell—

You gasp at how crisp and vivid the image is. Your eyes are wet.

There’s a rustle behind you. “Hey, Blue, you alright?” Her voice is sleepy. You realize that you’re shaking. Chills, though it’s not cold. God, did you wake her up? She needs her sleep — you both do. 

“Nothing — it’s fine.” You wipe discreetly at your face with the sleeve of your vaultsuit.

She huffs out a sigh. “Hey, c’mere.”

“What?”

“We’ll both sleep better if you’re not about to roll onto the floor. I don’t bite.” You can hear a smile in her voice.

“I don’t want to bump your leg—”

“You won’t. It’s fine, I promise. Now, come here, Blue.”

How could you ever say no to her? You roll over on the hard mattress and contemplate her back — the shape of her bony shoulders under her shirt, the fall of her dark hair on the itchy straw pillow, her neck pale and vulnerable. God, you want to kiss the spot where her neck and shoulder meet. You swallow down your feelings and carefully shape your body to hers.

She reaches back and gropes for your arm, which she pulls over her waist. She mumbles something low and happy and intelligible, and you smile. You are well and truly spooning at this point; there’s no other possible description of the position of your bodies, pressed up against each other. She’s so warm along your front, and you can smell the musky scent of her hair when you inhale. 

You close your eyes and consider how lucky you are, to have her with you as you explore the ruins of the city that you once knew as Boston. The future is a scary place, but with her in it, you’re beginning to be convinced that it has its upsides. You hold her close and try to get some sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up to the Fallout fandom five years late with Starbucks and Piper feelings*
> 
> Title from "Walk Me Home" by Pink. (I love [this cover](https://open.spotify.com/track/1Y7PsedM37OohVfjThBvYz?si=gzn8vQXSSsG4sc7lcbo7Sw) especially.)


End file.
